


Lullaby and Good Night

by magnetic_pole



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Grimmauld Place, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:46:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetic_pole/pseuds/magnetic_pole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharing a bed, sharing a life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lullaby and Good Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flaminia_x](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Flaminia_x).



_Oh!_

Sirius awoke with a start.

Where was he? Home, right. His parents’ house. Whatever.

Calm down, calm down. Bloody heart. At least it wasn’t Azkaban. Everything was fine.

Would be fine.

Except...that _noise._

What time was it? Late night, early morning. Not pitch dark, just a deep grey, with the hint of pink growing behind the curtains. A lovely, velvety silence in the house, except for that terrible, terrible noise. An odd noise, a deep, slow, grinding noise that Sirius didn’t recognize.

What the...?

He propped himself up on his elbow, and, to his left, something shifted. Moony, who twitched in response as the bedclothes pulled further away.

The noise stopped and then started again.

Sirius smiled.

Moony was grinding his teeth.

Hadn’t heard that sound in ages. Hell, if Moony had been grinding his teeth like that for thirteen years, it was surprising he had any left. The toothless werewolf, ha!

There was something Sirius used to do to stop the grinding without waking him up...

Something...

What was it?

Merlin, this happened so often now. Something old and familiar, at the edge of his mind, just out of grasp. What...?

And then Sirius’ hand crept out from under the covers, driven by a spark of muscle memory. Very, very gently, he touched Moony’s lips. Just one finger, just the lightest of touches. Moony stopped grinding his teeth, smacked his lips and opened his mouth once or twice, grabbed the bedclothes, and rolled over, his back to Sirius. He huffed a deep breath, and then...silence.

Sirius smiled.

Success.

Perhaps he should write this down. Sirius slipped out of bed, pulled on his fuzzy robe--damn, the floor was cold--and sat down at the desk. He found a quill as quietly as he could and lit the lamp. He eased himself down on the chair and tightened his robe around him before beginning to write.

_Stop the grinding with a touch to the lips._

Hm. After a moment’s consideration, Sirius picked up the quill again and made an addition:

_1\. Stop the grinding with a touch to the lips._

*

The old Sirius had never had much use for lists. Either he wanted to remember something, and he remembered it in full, or he didn’t much care either way, in which case he had no reason to write it down. Lists, he always said, were for wizards with weak wills or guilty consciences. (And the fact that Peter and James were compulsive list makers merely served to illustrate his point.)

But now.

Was it that he’d made one very terrible mistake and wound up the guiltiest conscience of them all? Or was it simply that Azkaban had taken more than just the thirteen years from him? In the earliest days afterward, when he finally rejoined the living, he had to write down and then cross out the most everyday tasks-- _eat, sleep, bathe, change clothing_ \--because the need to find and kill Peter overshadowed everything else.

Later, knee-to-knee at the small table in Remus’ flat, he and Remus drew elaborate diagrams and family trees to remind Sirius of the intricate network of wizard and witches who might yet still be allies or enemies.

Still later, at Grimmauld Place, after the others went to bed, he would talk late into the night with Minerva, trying desperately to remember the nuances of spells he had mastered as a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old, his quill scratching all the while.

Writing a list.

He glanced up above the desk, where small scraps of paper, sheets of parchment, and, in once case, the inside wrapper for a roll of biscuits had all been fixed to the wall with Spellotape or sticking charms. They were all covered with Sirius' angular writing.

His life was filled with lists, lately.

*

_1\. Stop the grinding with a touch to the lips._

The first time Sirius heard Remus grind his teeth, it was the middle of the night, their first year at school, and he’d jumped clear out of bed and grabbed his wand. Remus had woken up terrified, clambering back against his headboard.

“Have you been possessed?” Sirius asked, keeping his wand steady, looking Remus in the eye. Mum always said you had to maintain eye contact, so the spirit knew you were aware of its presence.

“What?”

“I said, have you been possessed?” Sirius asked. Then, more loudly, to the spirit inside: “I know you’re there.” He tried desperately to remember the spell for exorcising a demon Mum had used on Regulus when he fell down that one time. He hadn't paid enough attention.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked, pulling back his curtains. “Who’s there?”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” James said, squinting at his watch. “What’s going on?”

“Remus has been possessed,” Sirius said, still keeping his wand trained on the spirit. “Do either of you remember the spell to exorcise him?”

James looked and Peter, and Peter looked at James.

“Sirius, stop this Slytherin nonsense and go to bed,” James said.

“But--”

_”Now.”_

Sirius lowered his wand slowly. He’d have to watch this one.

“Thank you, James,” Remus whispered as they all climbed back behind their curtains.

*

_2\. Never, never wake him up before you need to._

This item almost didn’t need transcribing; if there was one thing about Moony that anyone close to him knew--even Sirius, sad, forgetful old thing that he was now--it was this: Moony was not a morning person.

Well, two things: Moony was a werewolf, and Moony was not a morning person.

Bet those two were related, actually. Never thought about that till now.

No one could rouse him in the morning--not Sirius, not James, not even Peter, who couldn’t understand why anyone would miss a minute of any meal and was genuinely concerned Remus would miss out.

“Go away,” Remus would say.

“You’re going to miss breakfast,” Peter would reply. “Get up, it’s important. We’re almost ready to go.”

Usually Remus would just roll over and pull the covers over his head, but one memorable morning, he replied to the second poke with a ferocious roar that sounded like it came from a dragon. “AWAY!!!”

Sirius thought he saw a flare of fire coming from Remus’ mouth. Scary, but cool.

“All right, all right,” Peter said, backing away. “Down, boy.”

“I told you he was possessed,” Sirius said. It had become a joke by then, though Sirius was never quite sure it wasn’t the tiniest bit true.

All throughout school, Remus had been the last down to breakfast, dashing in just as Sirius and James and Peter were packing up, heading off to class.

“Nooooo!” Remus would cry out, reaching for a piece of toast just as the plate vanished with a _pop!_ disappearing to wherever breakfast came from as the Great Hall cleaned itself up.

Usually they laughed at him--because honestly, it was annoying to be growled at the way Remus growled in the mornings--but one time during their fourth year Sirius let the others go ahead.

“Remus,” he said, pulling a napkin full of toast from his bag after everyone had left. He felt oddly tongue-tied. “Saved you some.”

Remus’ eyes lit up and his mouth opened in a perfect, gobsmacked “O.” Then he frowned. “Where's the jam?”

“What am I, a house-elf?” Sirius said. “Do you want it or not?” He started to stuff the toast back into his bag. He could always eat it after Potions, after all.

“No, no!” Remus said. “Give it over, I want it.”

“Some thanks I get,” Sirius muttered and they stalked off together, silent because Sirius was cranky and Remus had toast in his mouth.

*

_3\. In fact, never wake him at all, if you don’t have to. And certainly don’t tell him anything important while he's still groggy._

Sirius slept lightly and often woke early in the mood for a walk. Sometimes, after they all first moved into the flat together, he would get up at dawn and head out walking, flying, or riding the motorbike. Invariably, he’d come home to find that Peter and James had woken up and gone out, but Remus had got up, made himself some coffee, taken sip, and fallen asleep again on the couch in the living room.

That morning, Sirius had had the most beautiful ride, past the school at the end of the road, past the last houses and up to the top of the hill, where you could see out into the countryside. The sun was just coming up, and the sky was purple, and the grass was still wet, and the motorbike was humming so beautifully, and Sirius suddenly realized that the only thing better than a motorbike might be a motorbike that could fly. If any wizard was bright enough to figure out how to make a motorbike fly, Sirius Black was that wizard.

His mind raced with plans and ideas as he drove home, and when it happened that only a very sleepy Remus was there to listen, he didn’t care; he simply lifted Moony’s feet, plopped down beneath them on other end of the couch, and let the morning spill out of him.

He told Remus about the sunrise, and Remus said, “Mmmm.”

He told Remus about the plans for the motorbike, and Remus said, “Mmmm.”

He discussed the problems he would have shifting from petrol to magic, but how important it was that the motorbike should be able to drive in the city, with the Muggles, and then fly when Sirius was alone, and Remus mumbled, “Good point.”

And when he’d finally finished with the subject of the motorbike, for the moment at least, he looked at Remus’s sleepy face, and Remus' hand, which was gripping the edge of Sirius’ jacket. Almost without knowing what he was doing, Sirius leaned over and kissed him.

“Thanks,” Remus whispered, and then he closed his eyes and fell asleep, his hand slowly loosening up and letting go, so that Sirius could go find James and get started.

Sirius hadn’t really expected anything to happen afterward--what wizards go about kissing each other, anyway?--but what burned him up was the fact that Remus pretended the entire thing _hadn’t happened._ Sirius half-smiled at him after dinner, when Peter and James were in the next room, but Remus just took his plate into the kitchen. He went to find Remus the next day, and he could have sworn that Remus slipped out the front door as Sirius arrived, just managing to avoid him. Sirius panicked a bit and tried to apologize a few days later, but even then Remus cut him off.

“Remus, if you’re angry--” he began as they were about to leave for the grocery store, but Remus stopped him with a look.

“Sirius, what did I tell you?” he said. “No apologies, not between friends.”

Two weeks later, when he and James were working on the motorbike in the back garden, Sirius realized just what had happened.

“What’s this?” Remus asked, squatting down between the two of them, picking up a piece of the disassembled motor and inspecting it.

“The crank shaft,” James said, literal as usual, but Sirius sensed something else in the question.

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked.

“What are you two up to?” Remus asked again. “The bike not working?”

Sirius stared, but Remus’ face was curious.

“Flying motorbike?” Sirius said, anger and relief spreading through him simultaneously. “Sound familiar? You only listened to me talk about for most of an hour? Two Saturdays ago? On the couch?”

“Oh,” Remus said, smiling innocently. “Cool idea.” And then he began to blush, and he gulped, and he said with much more heat, _“Oh._ I was...half asleep, Sirius. I didn’t realize--”

Sirius snorted. “Yeah.”

Now it was Remus’ turn to smile shyly while James retrieved the crank shaft from him. “Don’t worry, mate,” James said. “I don’t listen to half the things Sirius says, either.”

_4\. Mind the hands and the feet._

Sex came easily enough, but it was surprisingly difficult to sleep together in the same bed. They would lie there together, sleepy and relaxed, and often Sirius would watch Remus’ eyelids grow heavy, and his mouth slacken, and his head loll as his breathing got deeper and slower. But when Sirius would fall asleep next to him, an arm slung over Remus chest, or his leg pressed up again Remus’ leg, Remus would wake up again, shifting irritably or pushing him away.

And Sirius would roll over toward the other side of the bed, grumbling.

For a while they slept apart, side by side, barely touching. Sometimes Remus got out of bed and went to sleep on the couch.

Finally, Sirius grabbed his hand one night as Remus started to get up. “Just tell me what bothers you,” he said.

Remus chuckled and started to pull away, but Sirius stopped him. “Please,” he said quietly.

And so Remus got back into bed, and Sirius turned toward him and rested his head on Remus’s shoulder the way he liked best. Then he threw an arm across Remus’ chest. "Well?"

Remus moved it up a few inches, adjusting. “Keep your fingers away,” Remus said. “You twitch, as you fall asleep.”

Sirius threw a leg over Remus’ legs, and Remus shifted a bit again. “Your feet, too.” Sirius shifted his feet away from Remus’ so they rested on the mattress. 

“Better?”

They lay there together for a moment. “Much better,” Remus said.

Sirius lay quietly, listening to Remus breathe, in and out, in and out, until Remus fell asleep, and finally Sirius did, too.

*

_5._

“What’s this?”

It was Moony’s voice behind him, gravelly and harsh, as it always was when he woke up. Sirius could feel Remus’ fingernails on the back on his neck, scratching in a gentle, friendly way. He closed his eyes. The room was lighter; it was almost dawn.

“I didn’t know you were up.”

“The bed got cold.” Sirius could almost feel Moony’s gaze over his shoulder, as he perused the list on the desk.

“I was grinding my teeth again?”

“A bit.”

“Hm. Thanks for stopping me.”

“Did you notice number two? No blaming me for waking you up. I know better.”

“I’m not up for good. Want one more item for your list?”

Sirius opened his eyes, and the fingers stopped scratching as Remus came around and leaned against the desk.

“Don’t take all the blankets,” Remus said.

_5\. Don’t take all the blankets._

“Really?” Sirius asked, surprised.

“For years,” Remus said, but he was smiling at Sirius fondly. “I should have said something, I suppose.”

“I should have realized,” Sirius said.

“I don’t know if you remember,” Remus began, very gently and very kindly, glancing at the lists pinned up on the wall above the desk. “One night, when we first got to Hogwarts, you pulled your wand out and tried to exorcise me.”

“Yeah?” Sirius asked as innocently as he could.

“It must have been the grinding, unearthly sound. At the time, I thought you just hated me.”

“Yeah?” Sirius fought back a grin. “What happened?”

Remus heaved a heavy sigh. “You hit me with some awful Black family hex. I had to go to the infirmary for a week.”

Sirius couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing.

“I knew you remembered!” Remus exclaimed, laughing, too. “Dammit, Sirius. You remember a lot more than you let on.”

When they had both caught their breath, Remus climbed back into bed. “Joining me?” he asked, pulling the covers back so Sirius could climb in, too. They snuggled together, Sirius taking care to rest his arm on Remus lightly and keep his twitchy fingers far from Remus’ chest.

“It’s not that I don’t remember, mostly,” Sirius whispered. “It’s just that I want it to be better this time, you know?

But Moony was already breathing deeply, slipping away.

Sirius rubbed his cheek on Remus’ shoulder. “Good night, Moony.”

“G’ni...”

**Author's Note:**

> A thank you gift for Small Gifts pinch hitter flaminia_x .


End file.
